


Itch

by WahlBuilder



Series: 30 days of rarepairs [8]
Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alien Culture, Claiming Bites, Hangover, Headaches & Migraines, M/M, Morning After, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-16 19:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13642869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: Anderson wakes up in bed with an unlikely companion after a wild night.





	Itch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [actualkoschei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/actualkoschei/gifts).



> Desolas Arterius/Saren Arterius is mentioned.
> 
> For my bro who likes these old dads just as much as I do.

David was itching. It was the sort of mad itching that one would experience wearing a particularly nasty woollen sweater. Little needle-pricks here and there that made one want to take off not only the bloody article of clothing but one’s skin, too. The itching was what had woken David, it was the sole focus of his attention as his mind zoomed into it. A few moments later he started pinpointing—ha!—the itching to particular parts of his body, and strange parts at that. His forearms, that was understandable. His back—somehow, right over his spine, trailing down into the dip of the small of his back in inflamed little circles. On the inside of his right thigh, and that was already alarming. But most of all, burning in the same strange pattern, individual needle-pricks of itching arranged in a circle, just to the right of his neck, in the meat and tendon and bone.

He wanted to claw at it but firstly he needed to know why it was itching.

And where he was, actually.

It was hard to divert his attention from the burning sensation that seemed to grow the more awake David was becoming, but what he could feel was reassuring. Somewhat. A bed, not overly soft, but not all wooden boards either, covered with sheets that tangled in his legs. A blanket of sorts, light and warm over him—over his naked body, to be exact. Could he be in a medibay? But the bed was a real bed, not a cot. Too wide for that… Wide enough for two.

He reached for the blazing sensation near his neck and barely touched it (it was dipped as though he had been bitten)—when a groan sounded next to him, nearly sending David off the bed. Stay calm, Dave, stay calm.

He cracked open one eye.

Then closed it. Then opened both eyes.

The groan repeated and was followed by a long string of grumbling that he didn’t pick up and, judging by the tone, it consisted entirely of curses.

Then David’s… bedmate rolled onto his side, and David stared into the eyes of Saren Arterius.

He didn’t dare to move although his hand itched—for a gun or a full bottle of something very, very strong, either would have done. Out of the corner of his eye he noted the light on the ceiling, slowly waking up to life, most likely reacting to their quite vigorous movement.

The infuriating turian was looking at him without blinking. Then his jaw shifted, and David already had a few questions on his tongue, too—when something switched in his mind, and he remembered the last night in its full glory.

He sat up—and had to clutch his head because it was going to explode. He closed his eyes tightly, hoping his brain wouldn’t leak out. The movement made the air _scratch_ against all the inflamed places on his skin, and the blanket pooled on his lap, and he was torn momentarily between blowing his brains out so they stopped hurting in his head and skinning himself. But the burning near his neck called his attention again, and he reached to rub it—only to find his hand squeezed firmly.

‘You don’t want to touch that.’

He tried to free his hand—it was a rather awkward position, his arm bent in the elbow, and that spot was itching so hard David couldn’t help but squirm.

‘Yes, I do!’ he said, turning to the turian and immediately regretting the movement, because a few cruisers blew up in his head.

Then he looked down and… down the turian’s body. Thankfully, the blanket was draped loosely over Arterius’s lap, too, because he was just as naked as David was—and David knew _exactly_ why.

‘You hate humans,’ David said flatly. His mind was stuck on the thought—because it was the only thought that could make the embarrassing memory go away, turn it into a, a bad dream. Or something like that.

‘I hate _incompetence_ ,’ the turian said, the metallic… thing in his voice rousing echoes of the things this same voice had said to David at night. ‘And humans killed my husband.’

David couldn’t move: his hand was still in a very taloned hand ( _oh God, the way he had pressed these sharp talons to his skin, slowly, slowly, watching it break_ ), and he didn’t know what he’d do if he got out. What Arterius would do.

‘Husband,’ David said flatly. He could hardly imagine anyone taking Saren as a spouse. ‘Didn’t know you were married—

‘I am _still_ married,’ the turian said calmly, blinking slowly. As though watching his prey ( _and oh, how David had enjoyed being devoured_ ). ‘It’s that my husband is dead.’

‘And what was the name of your dead husband, Imagination?’ David bit before thinking clearly. Possibly due to being unable to think clearly.

Finally, the turian’s face shifted for the first time in the whole small conversation, a flash of fury in the burning eyes. ‘Desolas, and you shall remember this name!’

The name ran a bell—rather like David’s head after Arterius’s words. His hand was free, though, so he dropped it. ‘Desolas? Like your brother?’

The turian’s face went kind of long and stoney. ‘It _was_ my brother. My brother _and_ my husband. What of it?’

There was something about turian marriage laws in the files David had been studying before this whole… mission had started. You will be the first human Spectre, they said. It will be a great honour, they said.

The light filled the room, and David picked things out of the corner of his eye again, things he’d rather not see. Pretend they weren’t there: discarded pieces of uniform (a shirt sleeve soaked in the bowl with a lazily floating jellyfish using it as its new house), way too many bottles—one of them of a bendy shape that made David vaguely sick looking at it—

_‘What is this st-stuff?’_

_‘Palaven— Ah, just try it already! And shut up…’_

—a few glasses with a faintly glowing liquid on the bottom.

‘Nothing,’ he murmurs. Then twisted and tried to look at the burning spot on his should— ‘You _bit_ me! And what, what do you have, poison? It’s all inflamed!’

The turian opened his mouth, no doubt to blame it all on him or say something scalding,—but instead, he yawned.

For a few moments, David stared into a mouth full of sharp teeth—the impression of them was right near his neck—and over his spine, and his ankles and forearms and his thighs.

‘Loud human,’ Arterius grumbled, then flopped face-down onto the pillows. And yanked David with him. David sputtered, trying to protest—mostly because the movement made his brain wobble in his skull—but Saren’s arm was draped heavy over his back, holding him down with ease. Then Arterius sort of _scooted_ to David’s side and, well, the turian was cool and hard and ridged in weird, but not unpleasant ways. ‘Soft human. Warm…’

David, his cheek pressed to a pillow that smelled of something sweet, like candy, watched the turian for a while, excepting more of his scalding comments. But then he heard a soft purring noise and realised Arterius fell back asleep. David needed to sleep off his headache, so he settled, too—and if he threw an arm around the turian, well… Who was there to judge him?

**Author's Note:**

> And then someone explained to David that bites on the shoulder are basically the turian equivalent of human wedding rings.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](valueyourwahls.tumblr.com)!


End file.
